My Trip to the ER or How I Learned to Stop Playing the Knife Game and Hate Switchblades

Maybe you aren't familiar with the knife game. It's a little game that involves me trying to look as crazy as possible and then stabbing a knife into the air, preferably near one of my roommates. Needless to say, I think it's a hilarious game, whereas no one else really does. C'est la vie. Anyway, last night was the last time I'll play the knife game. Ummm, the pictures are real, so don't click "read more" if you're squeamish.

Here's one part of the irony. I had my knife out because I took a fake injury picture. One of my friends had got a new haircut, and was refusing to send me a picture of it, at which point i said, "Send me a picture or I will cut myself." Maybe that joke was in poor taste, but most of my humor is, so that's that. Anyway, she didn't relent so I sent this picture.

She still didn't relent, so I gave up, and was all ready to go to bed when my new/old roommate Ryan came down. I did the fake stab thing once, and it was funny. I did it again, this time with a double handed lunge. Ryan, instead of jumping away from a potential stab like most people, instinctively went to block it with his hand. It cut his finger (just the skin, don't worry--but Ryan, I'm really sorry about that, I thought we'd played that game enough to both know our roles, so sorry again), and bounced down, sending the point into my left wrist. Oh, and it nicked whatever artery is there. So there was a lot of blood... Mainly in the kitchen sink and on the floor (nice roommate Jon had cleaned it all up by the time we got home from the ER--but he left my knife, which still had a chunk of wrist on it). Sorry, it's a little out of focus.

Yeah so, I thought it was funny, then it started bleeding a lot. I went to the sink to wash it off, and it bled as quickly as it was washed off. At that point, I told my roommate to take a picture before we went to the ER. I realized that I had something with which I could bargain.

So we go the ER. They asked how it happened, to which I replied, "Umm, I was playing with a switchblade. Don't tell my mom." There was also a big guy in the ER with a really messed up fist. I think it was from punching his dad. I said, "Man, what'd you do to your hand?" He just looked at me for 15 seconds, during which time I began to rethink my decision to try and make ER friends. Finally he just said, "Dude, don't tell me that. I don't want to hear that it looks bad." Luckily, he said that in a friendly way. My name came up before we could finish the conversation. The nurse that helped me also had a switchblade (he was from Chicago Chicago). He also said they were illegal, but wasn't surprised to find out that I had bought it new from a pawn shop. Look at me, illegal arms purchaser! Anyway, I sent the following picture to my friend, and promised a better one, if she'd send me a picture of her new haircut.

She still thought I was making it up. She knows me pretty well. I would've gone so far as to take a picture of a fake bandage with fake blood on my shorts, had I thought of it.

So...2 stitches later, we got back home around 3:30. It's weird to see inside your body, the layers of fat or skin, the err red stuff. It was like I had forgotten there was blood inside me. Anyway, I have a switchblade for sale.